


sun rise, sun fall

by itsamagicalplace



Series: one month, four weeks, too many hours [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Death, Emotional Recovery, F/M, Family, Gen, Growth, Raising a baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a devastating event one summer afternoon tears his family apart, Phil Coulson spends the next four years desperately trying to recover his life. [Prequel to 'Subtract the Distance']</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. June 2010

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to my fic 'Subtract the Distance'. You do not have to have read that to understand this, obviously, but if you have, you'll know exactly what happened in Phil's life. 
> 
> Warning that some may find this chapter upsetting.

_ Phil didn’t realise the mug had broken in his grasp, the pale ceramic shards splintering, knife edges slicing through his skin. The crimson trailing a slow path from his palm down each finger didn’t alert him either, nor the dull throbbing sensation that resonated from his closed fist. _

_It was Anne’s hand on his shoulder that stirred him, her soft murmurs for him to let go of the cup, and to rinse the blood away. She gently removed the pieces from his skin, and wiped the red from his wrist, placing a clear sticking-plaster across the largest of the cuts._

_She assured him it would heal quickly._

_He knew she was right; his hand would heal within a week._

_But his heart wouldn’t. Not after this._

* * *

** 3 days earlier **

Phil pottered around the kitchen, carefully watching the two pieces of bread under the grill - he’d always been a good cook, but burnt toast was becoming more frequent now they had a baby in the house to distract him.

He poured water from the kettle into the baby bottle on the side - he’d boiled it earlier so it had chance to cool - before setting it back down to reheat. He measured out the required scoops of formula, adding it to the bottle, and replacing the scoop to the tub, before adding the lid to the bottle, and shaking it up.

Two mugs then made their way onto the counter, a spoon of instant coffee granules in each, and he added the now hot water to them both, stirring them quickly before heading to the fridge for milk.

Phil turned the grill off, pulling out the two pieces of - amazingly unburnt - toast, and proceeded to spread them with margarine and marmalade, the music on the radio providing a relaxing soundtrack to his Saturday morning.

Audrey wandered down the stairs and into the kitchen a few moments later, Lola held close in her arms, and Phil smiled, greeting both his wife and daughter with a kiss.

“Good morning beautiful” he murmured quietly, pressing a kiss to Audrey’s forehead, “And good morning beautiful number two” he added, a second kiss for Lola.

Audrey smiled, shaking her head at his soppy actions, before following him into the room.

She took the bottle from where he had left it on the side, first checking the temperature of it, before settling into one of the comfier kitchen chairs. She held Lola in her arms, gently rocking their daughter as she tried to convince her to drink from the bottle. They’d switched her on to formula for the morning feeds, just to give Audrey a break really, but Lola didn’t seem particularly thrilled by the change in her diet.

Audrey sighed, glancing over at the time, before trying with the bottle once more.

“What time are your parents coming?” Phil asked, noticing her apparent haste to get their daughter done with breakfast.

“In about twenty minutes, and I still need to shower.”

“Go,” Phil told her, placing the tub of margarine back into the fridge, and throwing the knife he’d been using into the sink. “I’ll try, you get ready.”

Audrey stood with a grateful smile, placing the bottle onto the table beside her, and handing their daughter over to him.

“Thank you Phil.”

Lola gurgled slightly, and Phil grinned, cuddling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

As Audrey left the room, grabbing a piece of toast and a cup of coffee from the side as she went, Phil turned back to the baby in his arms.

“You not hungry Lo?” he murmured to her, as he leaned back against the kitchen work-surface, taking the bottle from the table and proceeding to try and get Lola to drink. “Not want it?”

She simply stared back up at him, her ocean blue eyes filling him with warmth, and he once more had to marvel at how his daughter was so gorgeous.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her in a whisper, placing another soft kiss upon her forehead. “Little angeleyes.”

He could hear the shower turning on upstairs, and Phil sighed. Audrey was amazing with Lola, and he himself tried to help out as much as he could with the feeds and changing her, but he knew his wife was exhausted. Three months with a baby was enough to tire anybody out, despite how well behaved Lola was. She even slept for several hours straight each night, which was a miracle in itself, but as Audrey insisted she got up to do the feeds at 3am, she was losing a lot of sleep.

He wondered if he’d be able to get her away for an evening, spend some time with just the two of them. They hadn’t been alone since the day their daughter was born, and whilst they both adored her more than anything in the world, it would be nice to be able to reconnect with each other.

Maybe he could take her to see the orchestra - he knew how much she’d missed playing since they’d had Lola - and then they could go for food at one of the many upmarket restaurants and bistros around the concert hall...

A slight tugging on the bottle drew Phil’s attention back to Lola, and he grinned when he realised she was drinking from it, her tiny hands reaching up to touch the sides whilst he held it in place.

Finally.

They’d been trying to get her onto the bottle for two weeks now, and each morning was a battle of wills between parent and child.

“You’re daddy’s little princess, aren’t you?” he cooed, slightly proud she was behaving for him for once instead of her mother. Not that he would ever rub it in, but it was a nice feeling. “Is that nice Lola?”

He hummed along to the radio as she drank, shifting his position slightly when the morning sun came streaming through the kitchen window, and directly onto Lola. It was a beautiful day, and he was more than a little peeved he was going to be stuck at home marking essays from his eighth grade class all day.

The joys of being a teacher.

A few minutes later, and Lola was finished with her bottle; Phil placed it back onto the dining table, before bringing Lola up to his shoulder, patting her back.

Audrey wandered back into the kitchen to find him dancing slowly around with Lola, the jazz music flowing from the radio speakers seeming to transport her husband into another age. She smiled, placing her empty mug next to the sink, and watched the two of them as one song ended, and another began.

“They played this at our wedding,” Phil murmured to her, dancing past as she shook her head with a smile. “Remember?”

“I do,” she replied, the sound of the doorbell interrupting their family moment. Audrey left the room to greet her parents, but not before Phil heard her mutter something about him being a complete and utter sentimentalist, as she passed him.

He grinned, switching off the radio as Audrey’s parents arrived in their hallway.

In a blur that felt like only seconds had passed, Audrey was bundling Lola into her car seat in the back of her parents car, and Phil was stood on the doorstep waving them goodbye, watching as the navy blue vehicle turned the corner at the end of the street.

Was it crazy to miss them both already?

Phil wandered back into the house, closing the door behind him, and sighed. It was strange, being there on his own, because with Audrey still on maternity leave from the symphony, there was usually either the tv or some music or Lola crying in the background.

Silence was… weird, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

He put the radio back on as he returned to the kitchen, and rolled his sleeves up, filling the sink with hot water and bubbles, before proceeding to wash all the pots they’d used that morning. He sterilised Lola’s baby bottles afterwards, the boiling water steaming as they sat along the window sill to dry in the morning sunlight.  

When all the tasks for the kitchen were complete, Phil headed to the dining room, grabbing the pile of essays he knew he needed to get marked that day, and carrying them out through the French windows, into the back garden.

They’d put the patio area in the year before, the first task they actually completed once they’d moved in, ceramic pots filled with everything from pansies to tulips lining the wall by the side of the house. The wooden table and chair set was a comfy addition, perfect for days like today, and as Phil set up stall for his day of marking, he smiled to himself.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, as the sun rose overhead, and the birds continued singing their summer songs.

A gentle breeze rippled through at one point, and Phil had to chase a couple of pages across the grass, not too sure his students would accept the excuse “your essays blew away” for why they were unmarked.

That was like a child’s excuse for not doing homework, and he knew it.

What must have been several hours later, Phil finished marking essay number fifteen, and he replaced the cap onto his pen. He leaned back in the chair, stretching out, and closed his eyes, feeling the heat from the sun beaming down onto his face.

He loved summer.

Audrey did too. He once more let his mind wander to the possibility of them going out for an evening, just the two of them. Maybe, once Lola was a little older, they’d be able to go for longer than a night, maybe take a trip to Hawaii or somewhere for a weekend.

He’d have to ask her about it. Keep love alive and all that.

Phil shook his head, before rising from the table. He placed a small stone from the flowerbed onto the pile of papers he’d been marking, to prevent them blowing away whilst he went inside, before heading back to the kitchen to prepare himself some lunch.

He hummed a tune as he dug around in the fridge, wondering what there was that he could use to make an interesting lunch for himself.

The phone in the hall began to ring just as he decided upon grilled cheese, and he sighed, before heading out to answer it.

“Good afternoon, is that Mr Phillip Coulson?”

“Yes?”

Phil didn’t like that tone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. That was a very formal, and sorrowful tone, one too formal for general chit chat.

“Hello, my name is Doctor Weaver. I work at SHIELD general hospital?”

His heart dropped into his stomach.

“Are you somewhere private right now Mr. Coulson? I have some extremely upsetting news.”

Phil had to fight to stay on his feet, but he had no idea the horrors he was about to hear.

“Approximately one hour ago, your wife, Audrey Coulson, and her parents, Camilla and Igor, were involved in a serious car accident. I am very sorry to have to inform you that all three adults passed away at the scene of the accident. They were brought to the hospital, but unfortunately there was nothing we could do.”

The room span. He leaned his head against the wall, but it carried on spinning. The words didn’t sink in. They couldn’t. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Not Audrey, she couldn’t be gone. She wouldn’t leave him.

At some point he sank to the floor, the pounding of blood in his head drowning out the voice at the other end of the phone.

It wasn’t real.

It had to be a nightmare, the worst, most terrifying nightmare he could possibly imagine.

He felt sick.

Phil turned his head to the side, and his gaze fell upon the line of baby bottles on the kitchen windowsill.

“Lola?” he choked out, not really sure how he’d managed to get a single word out of his throat.

“Your daughter is currently in the A&E department,” the nurse told him softly. Based on her patient tone, he had a feeling she’d probably told him this already, but he hadn’t heard. “She has a small head injury, and some bruising, but is otherwise unharmed.”

He didn’t remember hanging up.

Didn’t remember grabbing the keys to his car, and driving so quickly towards the hospital that he was for sure breaking the speed limit.

Didn’t remember calling his mother, and half screaming at her to get to the hospital.

Only when he set foot in the Accident and Emergency department did he come to his senses slightly, the array of beeping machines and chattering nurses and chaos seeming to snap him out of the daze he’d been in since he’d answered the phone.

And the smell of bleach was enough to wake anybody up.

He hurried to the desk, finding a single nurse waiting for him. The tag on her shirt read “Weaver”, and he knew immediately she was the one who had called him. She’d obviously known he would be coming, known that the moment he found out his daughter was okay he would want to be by her side, and she had waited.

“Lola” he told her, not giving an opportunity for any condolences or words of supposed comfort.

She seemed to understand however, and she nodded, beckoning him to follow her.

Down several corridors, Phil realised they had left A&E, and were heading towards the pediatric ward. That had to be good, if she wasn’t being kept in the emergency ward, she had to be okay, right?

As Doctor Weaver showed him into a single room, he found his daughter lying upon the covers in a hospital bed, a nurse from the department sat watching over her whilst she kicked her chubby legs around.

He nearly collapsed on the spot when he could see she was okay.

The cut on her head had simply a plaster over it, and other than a few bruises, she looked okay.

Tiny, and far too small to be in a hospital like this, but okay.

He blindly walked into the room, moving straight to the edge of the bed, and reached out, picking up his little girl and holding her close to his body. Phil half-sobbed as he felt her hair tickling his cheek, and he collapsed into the armchair in the corner, pressing kisses to Lola’s face and head.

Just being here, with her, knowing she was okay. That was what he needed.

The nurse left the room with a sorrowful nod, clearly knowing what had happened, and Doctor Weaver followed shortly after, telling him in hushed tones that when he was ready, she would discuss with him what came next.

Her apologies over the loss of his wife were sincere, but he was sure she had said them a thousand times before.

Anne’s arrival ten minutes later was the first movement he’d seen since the staff had left him alone with his daughter, and as she came towards him, Phil broke down, finally letting out the tears he’d been holding in since that dreaded phone call had arrived.

His wife, Lola’s mother, and her grandparents, were dead.

They were gone.

He choked incomprehensible sentences out, Anne simply holding him tight, stroking his back and whispering anything she could think of to try and provide some form of comfort. Lola was half squished between them, but right now, all Phil needed was for family to be close.

Anne’s own tears would be reserved for later that night. For now, she needed to be strong for her son, and her granddaughter.

They would all need to be strong to get through this.

 


	2. December 2010

** 6 months after **

Phil stood at his bedroom window, Lola curled up in his arms, the pair of them watching the snow falling outside in the early morning sunlight.

It was Christmas morning, and the first time Lola had ever seen snow. She was staring at it, mesmerised, and Phil couldn’t help but smile at the look of fascination on her face. Her blue eyes were wide, and she had her chubby hands reached out towards the glass, trying to grab onto the flakes on the other side of the pane.

It was moments like this, that Phil knew he was thankful for what he still had in life.

It was also moments like this, he wished more than anything that Audrey could be stood next to him, spending their first Christmas together as a family.

Six months had passed since his life had been destroyed, and every little thing reminded Phil of his wife. When he brewed coffee, first thing in the morning, he sometimes still found himself taking down two mugs from the cupboard. When he went into the bathroom, a can of hairspray had still stood upon the windowsill until a month previously. He was pretty sure that her pillow still smelled like her.

Things weren’t easy, but he was moving forwards, slowly.

Very slowly, in fact, but they were getting there.

Lola kicked out slightly, and Phil rearranged her, sitting her on his hip as he turned away from the the window.

Breakfast time.

He wandered down the stairs, chattering on to Lola about it being Christmas, the silent perfection of snow outside, and wondering if Santa had been to see her.

She wouldn’t be able to understand him or reply for another few years, but Phil was happy enough to talk to her like she knew what he meant. She babbled back incomprehensible words and sounds, and as he headed into the kitchen to prepare her morning bottle, Phil smiled.

He placed her into her high chair, and turned the radio on, busying himself with boiling the water for her bottle, before grabbing a sachet of baby porridge from the cupboard, and pouring it into a little pink plastic bowl. He prepared the oats quickly, pulling a chair up in front of Lola’s high chair, and attempting to spoon feed her her breakfast.

“Lola, open wide” he cooed, moving the spoon towards her topped with a little porridge. She waved her arms around and babbled, before opening her mouth, smacking her lips together as she tasted the warm mixture.

Phil grinned.

He loved watching her growing up, right in front of his eyes. It only felt like a few weeks since she had been a tiny baby refusing her bottle, but now she was staring at him with big blue eyes, whilst he flew her porridge-laden spoon around, teasing her before letting her eat.

As soon as the last mouthful was gone, Phil rose from his seat, putting the empty pots into the sink, and making up a bottle for Lola, out of the slightly cooled water from the kettle. He mopped the porridge mess off her face with a Captain America bib he’d bought for her the previous month as an early Christmas present, before throwing it into the washing machine, and grabbing the bottle from the kitchen counter.

“Come on then Lo,” he murmured, lifting her from the high chair and sitting her back on his hip. “Let’s go and see if Santa came…”

* * *

 

Three hours later, and an already exhausted Phil was wrapping Lola up in her new winter clothes - a fluffy jumper with a reindeer on it, tiny little leggings, and a pair of novelty snow boots - before heading out to the car with her.

The two were off to his mother’s for the day, and as she lived several miles away, they had a good few hours in the car together before they got there.

He strapped Lola into her carseat, double checking the seatbelt, before handing her a cuddly dragon toy he’d bought for her to keep her occupied during the drive.

He was still wary of driving, especially with Lola in the car with her, and as Phil backed off the drive, he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head that Audrey should be with them, off to celebrate their first Christmas as a family, had she not gone out on that fateful day, six months earlier...

* * *

 

When the investigation into the accident that tore their family apart found that it had in fact, been caused by a third party, Phil had never felt so angry.

Marcus Daniels.

A psychotic stalker, who had taken an obsession with Audrey to the next level. He’d been to all her shows at the symphony, he’d tried to meet her several times. That had been fine. Fans did that, and she’d had no problems signing photographs and CD’s for him when he asked.

It was almost flattering.

But when he showed up outside their house one evening, at almost 10pm, it had been the final straw, and Phil had called the police.

They’d thought that a restraining order would be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

CCTV footage from the scene of the accident that killed Audrey, revealed a battered red car had been tailing Igor’s own for several miles.

Daniels had been in that vehicle.

From the footage, it appeared they had realised they were being followed, and in a desperate attempt to escape from him, had tried to overtake the car in front. Another came at them head on down the opposite side of the road, and that was it.

Phil had closed his eyes when the video was shown as evidence against Daniels in court. He couldn’t bring himself to watch, didn’t want to have to see what had happened. He already had nightmares from the accident without having been there, and he didn’t need them confirming.

Daniels was sentenced to ten years for his stalking, as it was deemed his presence at the scene, and the fear it would have put into the family, had paid a direct contribution to the accident. He was placed into “The Fridge”, a downtown prison specifically for those who had caused a death. It was a terrible name, and Phil shivered every time he heard it mentioned.

He specifically avoided certain routes when driving, so he didn’t have to pass either the prison, or the scene of the accident. Both sent his mind down a path he didn’t need or want, especially whilst in control of a vehicle.

* * *

 

Pulling onto the driveway of Anne’s house, several hours later, Phil breathed a sigh of relief.

Lola had been fussing for the past hour at least, desperate to be freed from the restraints of her carseat, and her whining had been breaking his heart since it began. He hated seeing her distressed.

Phil clambered from the car quickly, wrapping his coat closer around him to protect from the cold, before opening the back door, and undoing the seat-belt holding his daughter in. She reached her arms out for him, babbling away happily, and he lifted her from the car, making sure her hood covered the fair hair that swept across her head.

The sound of the front door to the house opening caught Phil’s attention, and as he turned to see who it was, he smiled, his younger sister coming out to greet them both.

“Hey Phil!” She pulled the door closed behind her, and headed out to help him with the bag of baby things in the boot. “Hey Lola! How’s my favourite niece?!”

“Hey Maria,” Phil replied, shutting the car door with his side, and walking up the driveway to meet her, boots crunching in the frosty gravel that lined the front of the house. “Lola’s good aren’t you Lo?” he bounced her up and down a bit, and she giggled. “She’s been fussing for half the journey though.”

“Ahhh, she was just excited to see her Aunt Maria” she grinned, reaching out and taking the toddler from him, pressing a kiss to Lola’s forehead.

“I doubt that” he shot back with a smirk, earning a well-deserved a glare from his sister. Phil grabbed the bag from the boot, before slamming it closed, and locking the car behind them as they wandered back up to the house.

“So,” Phil started, holding the front door open for Maria. “Is he here?”

They both knew who he referred to. Maria’s new partner, Steve, who Phil had heard little about directly from his sister and was yet to meet, despite his mother constantly gushing about how lovely and charming he was.

“Yep” she smiled, stepping over the threshold and into their mother’s house, shuffling her boots on the doormat. “He is… please be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

* * *

 

Half an hour later, and the five of them were sat around Anne’s dining table, sharing their Christmas dinner.

Each plate was loaded with goodness, from roasted potatoes, to slices of cured ham, rich vegetables in every colour, and drizzlings of the best gravy they’d ever tasted.

Lola was looking around in wonder, having never seen so much food in her life, and happily munching away on her baby-version of Christmas lunch… although Anne kept sneaking her the occasional spoon of mashed carrots, or piece of roast potato.

In the background, a CD of Christmas songs was playing, and the cheerful lyrics floated through into the room, reminding them all exactly which day it was.

“So,” Phil began, swallowing the mouthful of juice from his glass. “How long have you two actually been seeing each other?”

Maria and Steve exchanged a glance - one which Phil did not miss as he took another sip - before Maria replied.

“Almost a year.”

He had to restrain himself from spitting his drink across the table at her, and potentially extinguishing the bright red candles that were flickering in between the plates of food.

“A year?!”

Maria nodded, and Steve, to his good grace, actually blushed a little bit.

“We met last January,” she continued, as though her brother wasn’t currently choking half to death opposite her. “And then we officially got together around May.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Maria paused, flicking her gaze to her mother and back, before stabbing a potato on her plate. Phil watched her debate her answer.

“Because,” she told him slowly, pushing the food around absently. “We’d only just got together when you lost Audrey… I…. we didn’t want to rub it in or anything, so we kept quiet.”

Phil was stunned. And admittedly a little moved that his sister, who he didn’t always get along with, had been so thoughtful. The mention of Audrey too made him a little misty eyed, as the sudden image once more of her funeral flitted back into his mind, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing.

It was Christmas Day - he would not cry.

“M… I wouldn’t have thought you were rubbing it in.”

“Even so” she shrugged, sending him a comforting smile across the table, as though she knew exactly where his mind had been.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

After dinner they moved to the lounge, and everyone began exchanging presents.

Whilst their own were exciting, each member was far more interested in watching Lola open - or attempt to open - her own. As her first Christmas, and not even being a year old yet, it was the first time she had ever been given an abundance of gifts all for herself to open.

She sat amongst the wrapping paper, waving the occasional piece of reindeer-pattern wrapping around, and pulling feebly at the sellotape that had attached itself to her leg.

Phil helped her open the gifts from his mother - her grandmother - and Lola seemed to love the polka-dot dress that she’d received, despite it being winter and too cold to wear it out right now.

“I got it a size up” Anne explained, watching her granddaughter with a soft smile on her face. “So she can wear it in Spring.”

“Thank you,” Phil told her sincerely, before bringing Lola up onto his knee, wrapping his hands around her to support her; she’d only begun sitting up properly on her own a month before, and she still wobbled a little when she was doing it for long periods of time. “What do we say Lo?”

She babbled incoherently in response, and all of them laughed.

That would do.

Maria had bought her niece her first ever art set, a kit for toddlers to finger paint designs onto paper, and then have them framed by a parent in a paint-splat frame. Phil thanked her profusely, and wondered how messy his house was going to get over the next few years, if Lola turned out to be a creative child…

Steve, despite never having met either Phil nor Lola, also bought her a gift, a pair of tiny furry slipper boots with white LED lights on them. She kicked her feet around in wonder when Phil switched them on, and the smile that lit up on her face, followed by the giggle of joy, only confirmed to Phil that becoming a parent, had been the best decision he’d ever made.

He only wished Audrey could witness their daughter’s happiness.

The thoughts of his ex-wife only continued, as he looked up at the photographs lining his mother’s fireplace.

There were several of he and Maria throughout their lives, from babies up to present day,  interspersed with shots of them with their father, before he passed away, and photographs of various other friends and relatives.

But it was the photograph of himself and Audrey, the day Lola was born, that finally brought the tears.

It had been taken in the hospital, only an hour after their daughter had arrived. The smiles on their faces spoke volumes, and he remembered it as though it were only yesterday.

The past eight months had been more than a rollercoaster.

He held back the choke until he left the room, quickly excusing himself as needing the bathroom, and handing Lola over to his mother.

He hoped none of them had seen.

But he had a feeling they all knew.

* * *

 

A few hours later and they were all getting ready to leave, letting Anne have her house back for the remainder of Christmas day.

“Phil” Maria said quietly, pulling him to the side in the hallway, whilst Anne fussed over ensuring Lola was wrapped up warm enough. “You know I love you, right?”

Phil nodded warily, and pulled his coat on. His sister telling him that was a rarity, and he knew something else was coming.

“Steve knows this guy, back from when they were in the cadets together,” she pulled a business card out of Steve’s wallet, and Phil had to wonder if he knew she had it. “He now works as a counsellor.”

“I don’t need help, Maria,” Phil replied, wrapping his scarf around his neck, a little tighter than he intended.

“I know, I know, but…” Maria sighed, pressing the card into her brother’s hand. “Please just think about it. He’s a professional. Even if you just talk to him about… things.”

He stared at her, before glancing over his shoulder, finding Steve quickly look away and busy himself with peering at the photographs lining the wall. He’d clearly been listening.

Phil nodded reluctantly, taking the card from Maria, and placing it straight into his pocket without reading it. “Okay,” he promised, shaking his head a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Maria smiled softly, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks Phil.”

Steve wandered towards them, clearly sensing their private conversation was over, and held out a hand, shaking Phil’s. “Good to meet you Phil” he told him, grinning at him as Maria took Lola from Anne. “Hope to see you again soon.”

“You too,” Phil replied, glancing over to his sister, who was currently bouncing Lola around in her arms. His daughter was giggling wildly, but he had a horrible feeling if Maria didn’t stop soon then Lola might just end up throwing up on her. “And I know you’ve been together a while, but good luck.”

“With what?” Steve asked, curious, as he replaced his gloves and zipped up his jacket.

“With Maria.”

“I heard that” she called, frowning at her brother, and Phil grinned back. Anne shook her head at them.

“Behave, both of you” she scolded fondly, before pulling Steve in for a hug. “It was lovely to see you again Steve.”

“Thank you for everything Ma’am.”

“Oh please,” she waved her hand at him. “I’ve said before, just call me Anne.”

Steve grinned. “Yes Ma’am.”


	3. July 2011

**1 year after **

  
It had been just over a year.

More than twelve months since their lives had been inexplicably changed forever. Phil couldn’t quite believe it, often finding himself double checking the date on the kitchen calendar, unsure as to how so many weeks had passed by since he’d lost his other half.

He hoped Audrey would be proud of how he was raising their daughter.

Things still weren’t easy, and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be for several more years, but at least now he was able to sometimes go about his day without concern, the routine he and Lola had together working some consistency and continuity into his life.

He’d tried to tell himself for a long time that he was fine, and he could deal with this on his own, but after breaking down on Christmas Day, and then doing the same thing at New Year as well, Phil had finally taken the courage to call the number on the business card Maria had handed to him at their mother’s house, the previous winter.

_Sam Wilson. Counsellor._

It had taken Phil several attempts to dial the full number printed alongside the guy’s name, hanging up each time he reached the eighth digit, but finally he completed the call, and as he made an appointment with a secretary on the other end of the line for late February, he knew deep inside that this was going to be a good thing for him.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d taken the drive out of state to go to his first session, leaving Lola for the afternoon with the lovely elderly lady next door, who had been helping out more frequently now that Phil had returned to work two days a week - that had been a necessity, the finances slowly reducing as he stayed at home with Lola full time over the past year.

Phil had heard about these therapy sessions, seen clips on television and in film, but when he arrived at the centre, sweaty palms shoved in pockets, he’d been pleasantly surprised. Even more so when he met Sam Wilson himself.

After spending so long expecting a serious professor wearing potentially a suit, or even a long white lab coat, Sam had been almost the opposite: a youngish guy wearing a t-shirt and jeans, casually talking to the group in an informal friendly yet supportive manner, that left everybody in the room feeling at ease.

Phil spoke with him one-on-one afterwards, thanking him for his words of encouragement and comfort, and Sam had replied with a shake of the head, promising Phil he was welcome to as many sessions as he wanted, at a discount rate for being friends with Steve.

He took him up on his offer, and attended another five session over the following three months.

And whilst his heart wasn’t healed, Phil was pretty sure the broken pieces were beginning to find their way back together.

* * *

“Dada!”

Lola toddled across the garden towards him, her little white shoes trampling the freshly cut lawn, and Phil’s face lit up in a beaming smile.

He could hardly believe his baby girl was both walking and almost talking.

She was growing up so quickly.

When she’d said her first proper word, way back in January, Phil had honestly teared up. The fact she spoke his name had made the moment even more special, and he’d held his little girl close whilst she rambled on about nonsense and incomprehensible babbling, with the occasional use of the word “Dada!” thrown in.

Now she could say a few more, like “bottle”, and “book”, and “‘ragon” (which was usually directed at the bright red dragon toy she now slept with each night religiously), but stringing together sentences that made sense was still yet to come.

He was half excited for her beginning to talk properly, knowing they would soon be able to have full conversations with one another about everything and anything, but at the same time, it scared him how fast she was growing, and that one day she would no longer be a tiny baby, no longer able to stay hidden from the traumas he knew he’d have to tell her about one day.

Phil swept her up into his arms as she reached him, pressing an abundance of kisses to her head, resulting in high pitched squealing from her, and a lot of wriggling around trying to escape his grasp.

“Well done Lo” he grinned, placing her onto his hip, walking them both over to where the buffet of party food was spread across a long wooden bench. “Soon you’ll be running marathons.”

He stopped in front of the table, scanning the huge - and totally over the top - array of food his mother had prepared for the afternoon, especially considering there were only a few guests present.

“Phillip” Anne had told him, when he’d hurriedly assured her she did not need to make so much effort for just one day. “It is your thirtieth birthday, and we are having a party to celebrate. And at a party, you have food.”

There was no arguing with his mother when she had made her mind up about something; it was a trait Maria had inherited more so than himself.

So, as his eyes scanned the insane array of various freshly-made sandwiches, mini golden quiches, bowls of crisps in every flavour, and tiny bitesize pastries, Phil shook his head, reaching out and taking a paper plate off the stack to the side, and handing it to Lola.

“What do you want Lo?” he asked quietly, eyes fixating on the glass bowl of bright scarlet tomatoes, and knowing she was going to point at them first.

He was right.

With a grin, he leaned over, taking a small handful of the fruit and adding them onto the plate his daughter was holding, watching as the small red globes rolled around the edges, threatening to fall to the floor.

A few sticks of bright orange carrot followed, alongside the green of sliced cucumber, and he finished the plate off with a small triangle of cheese sandwich, as he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Happy Birthday big brother” Maria grinned, nudging him with her elbow as she grabbed her own plate from the stack, proceeding to fill it with an array of unhealthy options that Phil was pretty sure were about 99% sugar. “How does it feel to be old?”

“I’m not old” he groaned, shaking his head at her with a glare, as he caught a stray piece of carrot that dropped from Lola’s plate. “Don’t make me feel old.”

“Sorry” she shrugged, popping a chunk of sausage roll into her mouth, and holding out a second for Lola to grab. “But you are.”

Phil glared at his sister, half tempted to throw the piece of carrot at her that he currently had hold of, before resisting, and glancing behind her, watching Steve chatting away with Anne, the two of them laughing at some joke he seemed to have told.

“How’s Steve?” he asked, flicking his attention back to Maria, who was now teasing Lola with half a chocolate finger. “You both still happy?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, tucking a strand of Lola’s fair hair behind her ear as she turned to watch him walking towards them both. “We’re good… in fact,” she paused, as Steve arrived next to them all, and Maria linked both of their hands together. “We actually have some news.”

Phil raised his eyebrows, a thumping in his chest that he recognised as excitement taking over, and Steve smiled slightly abashedly, before looking down at Maria beside him.

“I asked Maria to move in with me” he announced happily, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and glancing back up to Phil and Lola.

“And I said yes” she continued, squeezing his hand. “We’re looking for a house just out of town which we can make a home.”

Phil grinned in response, reaching out and shaking Steve’s hand.

“I’m really happy for you both” he told them honestly, taking the empty plate from Lola and putting it back onto the table, letting his now wriggling daughter down onto the grass below them all. “Seriously.”

“Thanks Phil,” Steve replied, the three of them watching as Lola wobbled slightly, before toddling across the garden to where her grandmother was waiting with open arms. “When we find somewhere, you’ll have to come down with Lola for a few days.”

Maria mock-glared at the idea of spending a whole weekend with her brother, but Phil nodded in thanks, smiling at Steve.

It would be nice to get away for a few days, to experience a change in scenery, and show Lola there was more to life than this one town.

There were so many memories here, both good and bad, and Phil was well aware of the pitying stares the two of them received whenever they left the house. This was a quiet street, and everybody residing upon it knew what had transpired the previous summer.

The closest neighbours had attended the funeral service, and the elderly lady next door, who cared for Lola sometimes, had come to the memorial held the previous month, to mark one year since the loss.

That afternoon had been the hardest day since the funeral, and Phil knew it. He’d broken down more than once, but many others had done the same, and he didn’t feel the need to be as strong for that day.

Everybody mourned, dabbing tissues to damp eyes, presenting freshly cut flowers to the headstones, and singing hymns in the nearby chapel in memory.

Lola had looked around in wonder, and it tore through Phil’s heart when she’d held a photograph of herself with Audrey that he’d brought with them for the day. She would never know her mother, not really, but at the same time, she was here, and she was alive, and Phil was absurdly grateful for that fact.

One day, he would have to tell her the truth, sit her down and explain to her why she was being raised only by himself. But for now, he was happy to keep to their own lives, and pointing out in pictures to her that the beautiful lady beside him in them, with waves of golden hair, was “Mama”.

 

 


	4. November 2012

** 2.5 years after **

Phil closed the large wooden door behind him, and headed off along the winding corridor that supposedly led to conference room 616.

It was the first time he’d done something like this in a long while - since before Lola was born to be honest - but the training course had been non-optional, and if he wanted to continue teaching on a part-time basis - or at all really - then he had to attend.

Lola was spending a couple of days with her grandmother, no doubt getting spoiled half to death by her during the process, and Phil had taken the trip across state to attend the session, paint-splattered laptop - courtesy of Lola’s handiwork - in tow.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there - far from it - but more that he couldn’t shake the slightly apprehensive feeling he had about the day, like something was going to go wrong, or something would change.

But what did he know.

As he rounded the corner at the end of the straight, and found himself walking into a large lounge-style area, complete with brown leather armchairs, and a soft classical soundtrack humming from the speakers above. Taking a few more steps into the room, he observed the shining wooden floor, and the apparently artistic paintings lining the walls.

But it was the figure at a table just to the right of him that really caught his eye, and for the first time that day, Phil grinned.

“Barton?”

The guy looked up, eyes widening as he spotted who had called his name, and he rose from his seat, beaming, as he walked over.

“Phil Coulson, no way!” He shook his hand vigorously, before patting him on the back. “How are you? It’s been too long!”

“I’m…” Phil paused, wondering how much he needed to hide right now to prevent it getting awkward, but realising with slight surprise that he didn’t have to lie quite as much as he’d thought he would. “I’m okay, thanks” he told him honestly, smiling back in response. “How about you?”

“Not bad, not bad.” Clint glanced over to the clock hanging over his table, and shook his head, before turning back to Phil. “I have to get back inside in about two minutes, but how do you fancy getting a drink later to catch up? After this is all done?”

Phil nodded, but tightened the hand he had holding his bag - talking about how life was right now, possibly may not have been the best plan, but as Sam Wilson had told him the previous year, he couldn’t hide from it forever.

“Sounds good.”

* * *

“I heard about the accident,” Clint told him in a low voice, swirling the contents of his beer glass around and shaking his head. “I’m so sorry Phil.”

Phil nodded, not too sure how to react. He hadn’t known how he was going to bring up what had happened, if Clint had asked about married life, but as it turned out, he already knew.

The pair of them had finished their training courses for the day, and had found themselves meeting up in a bar just out of town from the centre. A couple of burgers and piles of chips later, and they were discussing life over a few pints of beer, just like they used to as twenty-year-olds.

“I heard about it from Fury,” he explained, obviously sensing that Phil was unsure how he’d heard. “He mentioned it last year. Apparently read about it in the paper, recognised her name from when the two of you were dating at the academy, and put two and two together. Car accident, right?”

Phil nodded, taking a gulp of his drink.

“Yeah.”

“Man that’s rough.”

The two sat in silence for a while, no more words needing to be said. Phil was glad, in a way, that Clint had said no more, hadn’t given him long trailing sentences of sympathy and sorrow and how things would get better. He knew him well, and Clint had seen him grieve once before, after he lost his father whilst the two of them were studying at teacher-training college together.

Clint understood that over the top sympathy wasn’t the way to go, and Phil appreciated that more than anything. A lot of people didn’t get it.

Everytime he walked down the street, or took Lola out for the day to somewhere within the local vicinity, Phil was met by stares of sympathy, side glances from those watching the two of them, from people who shook their heads in sorrow when they watched him raising Lola alone.

He was sick of the stares, sick of people treating them like he was made of glass, and would shatter at any second, even two years later. For the first year or so, he hadn’t noticed it much, being in more of a daze as he drifted through life. But now he was getting things back together, and the constant onslaught of sympathy in the town was something he honestly wanted to escape.

“But you’re doing okay now?”

Phil thought about it honestly. He was doing okay. Things were never going to be perfect again, never going to be the same, but two and a half years had gone by, and life was ticking along once more, just in a different way.

“Things are okay” he replied, looking up and indicating to the barman that they wanted another round in. “I mean, I’ve got Lola, and she’s growing up so fast it’s crazy.”

Clint nodded, draining the last of his current glass.

“How old is she now?”

“Just over two and a half.”

“Wow.”

Phil nodded with a grin. “I know, crazy right?”

Two new pints were set down in front of them, and they waited patiently whilst the old glasses were cleared away from the table before continuing.

“She’s walking, talking, running riot really” he continued, shaking his head at how much she tired him out. “And she seems to have got a creative streak from her mother… she never stops playing with paint or trying to make things… Maria got her this set of finger paints the other year, and she’s never looked back.”

There were also spots of paint all over his kitchen floor, glitter in his shoes, and glue dabbed across the lounge wall, where she’d tried sticking her art-work up herself, but all of it just made him love her more.

“And Maria?” Clint asked, remembering all too well Phil’s crazy younger sister. “How’s she doing these days?”

“She’s doing great” Phil replied honestly, smiling a little at how much his sister had got her life together since her younger days of partying all night. “She’s been promoted to supervisor at the fitness centre she works at… Providence?”

Clint nodded over his drink. “Yeah I know of it.”

“She’s been there a couple of years now, loves it… I think she’ll want to be manager one day.”

“She was always bossy enough” Clint muttered, and Phil had to laugh. That she was.

“But the bigger news” he continued, setting his pint down on the table and absently wiping away at the condensation on the glass. “Is that she got engaged over summer.”

Clint widened his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, to a guy called Steve, they’ve been together almost three years now.”

“Wow,” he replied, nodding with a small smile. “Well congratulations to them.”

They mock “cheers-ed” their glasses together, and both took a gulp of the cold liquid.

It was crazy to him, that his younger sister was getting married. Especially as it only felt like yesterday she had introduced Steve to him. But, Phil had to admit, he had never seen Maria so happy, and he honestly couldn’t wait for the wedding.

They continued chatting about life for a little while longer, sharing a bowl of roasted potato snacks as they finished their second drinks.

Clint was working at a large high school out of state, near to where Phil’s mother lived, and suggested that if at any time Phil wanted a change, he’d be happy to let him know of any vacancies coming up for a history teacher, both part time or full.  

Phil thanked him gratefully, adding the information to the small part of his mind that was telling him a fresh start might be exactly what he and Lola needed.

“So how about you Phil?” Clint continued in a quieter voice, some time later. “Have you been seeing anyone else? Ventured back out there?”

Phil froze, watching the bubbles slowly rising in his third golden drink, whilst he thought through the idea in his head. It had been over two years since he’d lost Audrey, and whilst he had accepted she was gone, and no longer spent each day pining for her, he did honestly miss the companionship he’d had whilst they had been together.

“I’ve not really thought about it,” he admitted, swirling a spare coaster around on the wet surface of the table. “I’ve been so busy with Lola, I’ve just… I don’t know.”

Clint nodded in understanding, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s just an idea, but maybe give something like online dating a shot? You know, even if it’s just to get to chat to other people your own age.”

Phil mulled the idea around in his mind.

The thought of seeing another woman, in a romantic fashion, was not something he’d really considered over the last few years, having been focused solely on bringing up Lola to the absolute best of his ability, and in a way Audrey would be proud of. He couldn’t work out if seeing somebody else would feel like he was betraying his wife, or if it was about time he began to explore the possibility of making a future with somebody else.

It couldn’t hurt to try… could it?


End file.
